


Enough

by cjbloomfield



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Insecurity, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjbloomfield/pseuds/cjbloomfield
Summary: Rafael Barba hasn't been home in  e i g h t  days.Olivia, his wife, pulls out the big guns when she begins to worry.Rafael begins to spiral, can he handle the news his wife has in store for him?
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 41





	Enough

“Rafael?” Jack McCoy stood tall at the entrance of the corner office, the night skyline of the city reflecting off his brown eyes, he shakes his head, wearily. “Rafael, wake up.” He raises his voice a notch.

“Huh?” Rafael’s head shot up from off the desk, an orange sticky note stuck to his cheek. “When did I doze off?” He peels the neon paper away from his skin.

“Go home, Barba.” McCoy’s eyes soften momentarily.

“I figured it out, Jack!” Rafael ignores his boss’s orders, shuffling through stacks of his legal notepads filled to the brim with his handwriting.

“Rafael, pack it in. You’ve been here for eight days straight—go home. Go see your wife and son.”

“Jack, I found the nail in the coffin, this gang is going down. Don’t you care? I crafted an impenetrable answer tree—“

“—Rafael are you aware Olivia passed out this morning and was in the hospital?”

“Olivia? Is she alright? What the hell happened? Whose taking care of Noah?” His frenzied eyes widened, knocking papers off his desk as he scrambles for his phone—it’d been dead for the past two days. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”

“Your phone’s been off.” Jack offered.

“My office phone!” He clutched the phone between his paling fingers, “My—my phone’s dead—where is she? What hospital? Wait why didn’t you tell me if she’s alright?”

“Rafael, relax—“

“Can you call me an Uber to whichever hospital she’s in I have to be with her—you can cut it from my pay—“

“Rafael!” McCoy’s stern voice captured his attention, luring him away from his cloudy and jumbled thoughts. “Olivia was discharged an hour ago, she’s at home awaiting her husband’s arrival. Go to her.”

“So she’s alright?” Jack nodded once, Rafael let go of the breath he was unaware he’d been holding. “I’ll head home as soon as I straighten up here and write my opening remarks—should take me 45 minutes tops, gives my phone some time to charge so I can call an Uber home.”

“Rafael—no.” McCoy held Rafael’s shoulder to turn his attention back to the problem at hand away from the black iPhone he’d been connecting to power. “Now.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re off the case, you can hand over all your summations, evidence, and argumentation to Devereaux, he’ll be working the case from an undisclosed remote location.”

“Jack! I did all the work—“

“You have a wife and son to think about, Rafael! Did you really think I wasn’t gonna find out about the death threats?”

“I’ve gotten them before, and look—I’m still standing. Olivia can protect—“

“Not in her state she can’t! This is an order, not a debate. It’s final, so just go home?” Jack look defeated, the usual austere man didn’t look quite as steely and unyielding as Rafael was used to. “It wasn’t at my request, but I agree with the arguments she made—“

“Olivia, had me pulled?” Rafael’s confusion managed to compound, as Jack’s face sagged in desperation—he didn’t have the fight in him, he just needed Rafael to acquiesce to his order—he wouldn’t be the one to explain to him _why_ , for that, he needed to speak to his wife.

With inward slanting eyebrows, squeezed together so tightly his forehead began to crease, Rafael packed his belongings anger rose in him like a tide, smoldering with resentment, he swallowed down his frustration and headed for the door wordlessly.

Rafael seethed inwardly, rage ran red through his brain as he stewed silently in the back of an Uber. His anger was mounting with each passing moment, unable to think of anything other than how he was about to lay into Olivia.

He bit back his anger as he fumbled with the key and the lock—pushing into a seemingly empty apartment, Noah wasn’t in the living room watching cartoons or creating a mess with his legos, train sets, or coloring pages. A cold breeze washed over him, not nearly enough to tamp down the reddened feelings simmering inside of him.

Gently stomping down the hall to the bedroom he shared with his wife—that had become foreign to him since the start of this case—he nearly ripped the door off its hinges. Only to find the bed perfectly made, no Olivia insight—nowhere to dump all his misplaced anger.

“Olivia?” He stepped further into the room to find his wife dry heaving with her head in the ceramic bowl. “Olivia!” His anger dissipated, replaced with worry and fear. “Liv, are you okay?”

“Rafa? You’re home?” Her watery brown eyes plead with his extinguished burning green embers for understanding. He knew she wouldn’t even need to use words—he already forgave her. He knew in his heart she would never have done something so drastic if it wasn’t a dire issue.

“I’m home.” He crouched down to her level, before plopping onto his bum across from her, rubbing soothing circles into her lower back. She knew from the glint in his eyes he needed more, he deserved an explanation. “Olivia, you should’ve talked to me—how could you go behind my back? How could you go to McCoy?”

“Rafa—you were getting death threats—why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out from a letter slipped under our front door, Rafa? They were here. They know where we live!” Her anger trembled between chattering teeth, tumbling from between her lips as she sobs rather than a reproachful lashing. 

”Liv—I—“ he subdued to the shame bubbling inside of him, “How long have you known?”

“I spoke to McCoy about a week ago,” she sighed, pressing her forehead onto the coolness of the white bowl.

“When I didn’t come home.” He elucidates.

“I was terrified, Rafa.” She whispered, afraid to meet his eyes. “These are mobsters. We can’t take anything they say with a grain of salt.” She straightened her back, the back of her head resting against the accent green wall.

“I know that, Liv.”

“Then why are you acting like a single man without a family to care about picking up joint terrorism and gang cases?” She was breathless with simmering anger, it ebbed and flowed throughout her veins, only interspersed by the unnerving worry. “We have a son, Rafael.”

“I need to prove myself, Olivia.” Resentment clouded her muggy browns, finally meeting his woozy greens, drunk on apology. “After the scrutiny of our relationship getting out, the rushed marriage, and losing the Purcell case because I chose you over practicing and preaching the law.” A vortex of regret and unparalleled repentance consumed his resonate. “I have to prove that I’m still that lawyer—that nothing has changed.”

“To who, Rafa? To McCoy? To me? To your mother?”

“To myself Liv!” He winced at the callousness of his tone. His face faltered, softening the blow—apologetic, toggling between a whimper and a grandiose sense of self. “I have to prove to myself that I can be something without you. _We_ had the highest conviction rate in the city. _We_ created the handbook on the synchronization in communications between officers and lawyers. _We_ revised and amended New York law. Olivia everything I’ve accomplished is because of you, it’s something that _we_ do.”

“And you need your own autonomy.” The gentle bounce of her head signaled her understanding. “And the fact that I’m your wife doesn’t help with self-preservation. You need your identity apart from me...and Noah.” He saw the jolt of hurt shimmering in her eyes. “We’re too entangled.”

“No.”

“Rafael—“

“No.” Rafael would never change the course he took in this life. His love for Olivia and Noah—unmatched and unmeasurable—the greatest thing to ever come from a comfort zone. To fill the role of being Olivia’s husband, the father to her child, her life partner, her best friend, and in any other capacity she will have him is Rafael’s proudest accomplishment. But he couldn’t help but feel the compulsion to prove everyone wrong—he could in fact be a good lawyer—clear judgment and high conviction rate—a powerful and effective prosecutor. “I do not, nor will I ever regret you or our son. But what am I without you? A half accomplished lawyer whose face gets lost among the crowd. You fell in love with my passion, my fire, my drive for the challenge. Now I’m just some pen pusher who signs off on plea deals. Olivia, I took this case because...I just want to be enough.”

“Rafael Barba.” Her voice trembled. “Stay Alive, Rafa. That would be enough.”

“I wish—will you relish being an undignified man’s wife?”

“I‘m gratified being your wife, we’re partners, in everything.” The softness of her tone wet his eyes.

“Enough for you and Noah?” He murmured, the brokenness of his soul shimmering through the half-spoken whisper pleading for reassurance.

“I can’t pretend to know the challenges you face constantly, we exist in different worlds now since your transfer; all the trauma you keep erasing and recreating in your mind. But I’m not worried, I know who I married—a strong-willed, stubborn, loving, kind, and gentle soul. And as long as you come home at the end of the day? That’s enough for me, I just need _you_. We don't need a legacy. We don't need endless streams of money. If I could give you peace of mind, Rafa—let me be enough.”

“You are enough, Olivia.” She pushes against the wall, fighting the dizziness building in her mind. “You’re more than enough.” She tried to steady herself, gripping the smoothed edge of the wall. “Liv?” Rafa’s worry intensified, replacing all and any other emotions swishing around his half relaxed state. He pushed up, settling his weight on his knees, fixing to stand when Olivia’s arms wrap around his neck, stilling him in place.

“Rafa...” she breathes, eyes closed as the world finally slows—the spinning ceases when they’re in this position, with his body pressed firmly into hers. “Just stay.” She whispers as the room returns to its balance. “Stay for me.” His arm snugly circling around her waist, his elbows positioned right above the curve of her ass. “For Noah.” She runs her fingers through his greasy unwashed hair, ever so lovingly. “For our baby.” He freezes, angling his head up, his wonderstruck greens peer intently into her worrisome browns.

“Baby?” He barely uttered above a whisper. “I—is that why you were rushed to the hospital today?” Olivia offers him a short nod. “Baby I am—I’m so sorry—how long have you known?” Rafael shifted his neck, pressing his ear against his wife’s bellybutton—intoxicated by the whooshing sound created by the contents of her stomach.

“A couple of hours.” Her voice is breathy and her eyes tearful.

“How far along are you?”

“They think I’ll be entering my 13th week in a couple of days,” she choked out in pure amazement. “She’s about 3 inches, her skin and nails are developing, she no longer has froggy toes or fingers, the chances of miscarriage have significantly decreased because I’m about to start my second trimester.”

“She? Did they?” Rafael fights the tears brimming in his eyes.

“No—it’s much too soon to tell, momma knows.” She smiled willfully.

“There’s really a little us growing in your tummy?” He started chewing on his lower lip, his eyes welling up with tears. She nodded so smoothly, it was nearly imperceptible. He sobbed into her belly unceasingly, hands clutching at her waist. She held him close in silence, rocking with him ever so slowly as his tears soaked the base of her shirt. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with tears of joy, before he thumbed the material of her blouse, damp with his tears. He pressed his lips firmly to the cooling skin of her flat stomach. “You’re really in there?” His astonished love-filled gaze met his wife’s. “I love you so much, Olivia Margret Benson-Barba.”

As much as she tried to hold it in, the cry came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent sob, “I love you too, Rafael.” She could feel the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child as she gazed into the green abyss of her husband, the light behind his eyes soothed her. The static wracking her brain—the side effect of the fear, worry, and the stress she bared for the last few hours, unsure of how her husband would react. It’s a relief if she’d ever felt one. A wave of calming continuity washed over her. It adds something to her, she wasn’t aware she didn’t have before this moment.

“Hi, Clio,” Rafael mumbled against her skin. “Daddy is going to be the _best_ father you could ever imagine. I promise you.”

“Cleo? Like Patra?” Olivia mused.

“No, not like Cleopatra. Clio meaning glory.”

“I am not naming my baby girl after one of your exes,” Olivia smirked, as he rose to his feet.

“Clio is the Greek muse of history.” He rolled his eyes. “As if you have anything better.”

“I do.”

“Oh, yeah?” He wiped his remaining tears, his eyes bright with glee.

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is or am I supposed to trust you for the next 27 weeks?”

“Haley.”

“Haley?”

“Yeah, it’s cute.”

“But what does it mean?”

“Not all names have to have meaning, Barba.”

“You must be talking to yourself, Mrs. Barba.” He scooped her up in his arms bridal style. “Haley, the clearing of hay. English surname. Not for my baby girl.” He gently laid his impregnated wife on the bed, kicking his shoes and socks off before climbing on top of her.

“Haley meaning ingenious.” She squinted at him, her lips smoldering awaiting a kiss. Before acquiescing to her plea for affection, he rolls the ends of her top, pulling the fabric over her head, throwing it over the edge of the bed.

“Clio Haley Benson-Barba?”

“Haley Clio Barba.”

“Just Barba?” She nodded longingly.

“Clio Haley Barba,” he smirked.

Rafael bent down, his lips against her lips, brushing it lightly—the gentle touch sent jolts down her spine, through her nerves, shivers which made her whole body tremble. He pulled back, scaling down the length of her body, halting sat her midriff. “Papi is so sorry for the jostling, mi princesa Clio.” He brushed his mouth against the lining of her pants, pulling the skin tight trousers off of her. He softly traced the outline of her most sensitive regions with his thumb, swiping against her warm numb. His lips were against hers.

“Oh—“ She gasped, goosebumps rising on her skin.

“Liv—“ But she had reached up and pulled him down to her, the rest of his words were lost against her mouth. He kissed her gently, carefully, but it wasn’t gentleness she wanted, not now, not after eight days without him, she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her, gathering her against him, and they rolled over, with Olivia comfortably on top tangled together, kissing so thoroughly making up for lost time.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this back in early July before my life fell apart, I thought why not just post it? Enjoy my finished yet unfinished one-shot dedicated to Clio and Haley.


End file.
